


Love Sick

by Shitgetapen



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, looking after a sick and stubborn combeferre, very cheesy and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 06:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shitgetapen/pseuds/Shitgetapen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh god, your hearts really going! Is breathing really this hard?” he tried to cover amusement with over the top worry.</p>
<p>“No. Well yes, no. I’m really tired, maybe you should go and I’ll just sleep…”</p>
<p>“I might have to run some more tests. Can you answer some questions for me?” He took the ear pieces out of his ears but kept his hand on his chest and gave him an earnest look, letting out a deep breath, “do you fancy me?”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Or Combeferre is bad at looking after himself and confessing his feeling, while Joly is nursemaid and doctor smooth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Sick

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like a year ago and only now am posting it.... but hey i think i fixed some of the problems in this time.

“You’re sick” Combeferre looked up from his book to see a rather stern Joly, he stifled a cough and thought for a moment. He was a bit thrown not only because his cold had made his head foggy and his thoughts seemed to be moving through treacle, but also because it was a rare sight to see a stern Joly. Exasperated? Yes. Verging on angry? The last time it was seen was only when Grantaire had taken some of his ‘medical medicines for strictly medical uses’ (as he had so eloquently explained) and smoked it with Bahorel. So he opens his mouth, closed it, fixed his glasses, opened it again, coughed, and then finally replied hoarsely “I am not sick, it’s just a cold.”

“Two. Weeks.” He barked, crossing his arms.

“What?”

“You've had a damned cough for two weeks! Which is, by the way, the amount of time a cough takes to become a sign of a chest infection. I ignored it because I thought someone who used to study medicine would be able to look after themselves but it seems I'm mistaken. And I’ll be damned if I let my friend contract pneumonia on my watch.”

Combeferre was a little surprised he noticed the cough for so long, since for the first week it was more a tickle with loud throat clearings, rather than anything worth noticing. Well that is to say he was surprised until he remembered who exactly he was friends with. The kind, observant and hypochondriac Joly was bound to notice. He probably has a medical book especially dedicated him, and just then he was glad he was ill because the blush that the thought of being studied by Joly could be hidden by his generally flushed appearance, but still he looked quickly back at his book, hoping he didn’t look as dizzy as that movement made him feel. “It’s really just a cold. Don’t start planning the funeral yet.” He replied trying to sound dismissive instead of croaky.

“Well allow me to check up on you at least, otherwise I’ll start texting everyone the planning agenda.” In the beat it took Combeferre to begin to cough he whipped his phone from his pocket and mock texted. “That’s it! Enjolras is on the speech. Bossuet on bouquets. Grantaire on-“

“I’ll go. I’ll go! Just please slow down.” Combeferre half wheezed half laughed.

Combeferre let himself be steered through the hallways back to his room despite the mild protestations he continued to spout (‘I'm really not that bad’ ‘I have class in half an hour, I can’t miss it’). He wondered vaguely why his friend was being so hands on when he’s usually so cautious about infection, but was glad for the arm around him because it was quite hard to focus on things like staying upright when you’re dizzy, and it was so easy just to fall into the gently pressure and warmth of the arm around him. When they finally got to the tiny dorm room Joly ushered him to sit on the bed, avoiding the teetering piles of books. He vaguely hears Joly scoff at the mess and winces. Walking through he sees a glimpse of himself in the mirror and any thoughts of ‘oh no I'm fine’ were dispelled once and for all, he could plainly see he looked terrible. In the time between leaving his room and returning, the dark rings, and sickly pallor had developed into something nothing short of ghoulish. Joly lowered Combeferre onto his bed and dragged a desk chair to face him, When they were sitting down Joly also took a moment to assess his appearance also, as though something might have changed from the common room to here. “You look terrible.” He sighed looking him up and down, and in reply Combeferre breathed a laugh (followed by a cough).

“Okay here are my doctors ord-“

“I thought this was just a check up?”

“That was before I realised how bad you were at looking after yourself. Open your mouth.”

“Wha- mmfff” Combeferre didn't have long to wonder before a thermometer is shoved into his mouth, he narrowed his eyes because if he wasn't planning on being nursemaid then why would he have it on him. But he couldn't begrudge his friends care, it was just another part of him he admired, even if his idea of care was ‘I will look after you whether you want me to or not’.

“Oh god!” was Joly's only diagnoses from the temperature before mumbling something about Spanish flu which his friend politely ignored. “Arms up.” He said after a pause getting a stethoscope out of his jeans pocket (‘god he planned this so much’). Instead of arguing Combeferre raised his arms feeling a little self conscious, it wasn't as if they were strangers to seeing each other’s bodies, but now in this situation it felt oddly intimate. Though it was harder work to keep his aching arms up long enough for his shirt to be removed, letting them drop with a dramatic sigh after he was done. And if Joly swallowed thickly at the sight of his (surprisingly toned if Joly could say) torso, Combeferre didn't see.

The stethoscope was cold on his chest, and visibly shivered. Joly murmured an apology, but it fell on deaf ears because Combeferre was still having trouble dealing with Joly so close without another layer of fabric between them, he’s so sure he can feel the heat coming off of Joly's body (but quickly dismissed it as just his fever), along with the elephant sitting on his chest, it was all making hard to breathe steady. Still he struggled on, holding in a number of coughs. But it was his heart that betrayed him in the end, though Joly was just supposed to be listening to his breathing, he couldn't ignore the hammering that echoed through the earpieces. He was stuck between ignoring it and asking about it, but what if it was just his wishful thinking that it was a crush? What if it was Spanish flu? So he looked up through his eye lashes to see Combeferre’s face turned away while he worried his lip, he was looking maybe a little pinker than when he left it. So Joly grinned in a way he hoped was innocently.

“Oh god, your hearts really going! Is breathing really this hard?” he tried to cover amusement with over the top worry.

“No. Well yes, no. I’m really tired, maybe you should go and I’ll just sleep…”

“I might have to run some more tests. Can you answer some questions for me?” He took the ear pieces out of his ears but kept his hand on his chest and gave him an earnest look, letting out a deep breath, “do you fancy me?”

Combeferre breathed a laugh at the wording because it made them sound like children, looking up at the ceiling embarrassed, his mouth worked to form a witty response but all it did was cough so he settled on letting out the rattling breath and nodding. He had felt the crush creeping up on him for weeks now, but it had also hit him like a truck when he finally saw Joly for more than a friend, how could he have not seen him like this before? He was all the things Combeferre admired, smart, kindly not to mention funny. He only didn't act out of cowardice, he recognised being scared to ruin their friendship was a silly reason because he’s pretty sure Courfeyrac has kissed them all with no repercussions. No, he was just scared. Scared of rejection, scared that it would be just a one time thing, scared it was more than a crush. But now he was a deer in the headlights, waiting to see if he was road kill or still had time to recover.

He waited for Joly to reply, but instead of having any words he just sighed and when he looked down to finally gauge the reaction (pity or rejection?). However the hand holding stethoscope was still lying flat on his chest, feeling the steady but fast beat rattle through him, so he realised it can’t be that bad. When he finally looked at Joly, he was just smiling wide and free. He’d seen that smile a million times, lighting up room after room, making his face even more handsome, but now it shone. It was a lovely smile, and an infectious one. Combeferre felt the corners of his mouth turning up, in all the situations he didn't expect them to just grin at each other like school boys, but then again he didn't expect to be dizzy with sickness as well as happiness.

“So then,” Joly began breaking their happy silence, “I guess you should maybe follow your heart and go out with me? Because yeah.” He seemed genuinely coy then which made his patient laugh which only resulted in a minor coughing fit.

“If I didn't know better I’d say you were taking advantage of my feverish judgement.” He said, finding some of his old wit coming back to him.

“You did forget to lock your door today… Still, yes or no? In case you need persuading you do have your health in my hands.”

“I guess I don't have a choice then.” “No not really. God I wish you weren't sick, and gross right now”

“I am feeling better now.” This was only half a lie because he relly was, some of his limbs begin to feel less heavy, and even breathing wasn't as much as of a chore. Though his head still felt full of wading. It was a start.

“No you’re not, we’re just happy. Sleep now, we can talk about where I can take you on our date when you wake up.”

_Our date._

The words hung for a second in the air and Combeferre felt like reaching out to grab them, so he could hold onto them for even just a second longer, still smiling and sick he could find no argument to Joly's point. So instead Joly filled in the gap and leaned in to take off his glasses he lingering for a second (or an eternity, time was beginning to seem very fluid to Combeferre). He looked like he was studying his face, cataloging the moment. His hands just poised by the sides of his face. So close Joly’s glad he took as much vitamin c before he came to find him to the point where he’s surprised he’s not glowing (he tells him this later and Joly worries that if Combeferre dies laughing it would be his fault and they wouldn’t even have gotten their date), and Combeferre could count his eye lashes if the world wasn’t still so wobbly.

“God I wish you weren’t ill.” He says again only now more tired and it comes as more of a sigh as he moves back finally to stand. He manoeuvred Combeferre into lying position and under the covers despite the protests of ‘I’m too hot’ and ‘can’t we just talk like this?’He then tried to resist because he’s really not that bad and he wants to stay awake and talk about their date and what Joly would do if he wasn’t sick. But again found himself too tired to do anything of the sort and the covers were much too inviting. So while Joly left to get him some pills he made himself comfortable, kicking off his jeans.

He was put off breath from the exertion when his doctor came back, and he tried not to be to bitter at the smile at his expense. But not do bitter that he didn’t let himself be lifted into sitting position and have the water and pills (vitamin C and a regular cold and flu tablet) pushed into his hands, both of which he swiftly swallowed. Even after Joly let his arm remain around him and Combeferre leant into the familiar presence and warmth. He felt himself beginning to be dragged down by sleep not long after that, it was hard not to be in the comfortable safety of Joly’s arm. He was glad the awkwardness of his unanswered question was gone, that he was going on a date, and he had someone to look after him who was semi competent in medicine. He mumbled this yawning against his neck, “you should go though, I don’t want you to waste a day because of me.”

"Not to sound like a sap already, but it really wouldn’t really be a day wasted. I mean you could choke on your spit, or have any number of unattractive deaths if I’m not here.”

“Well that’s nice to hear.” “I’ll l leave once Enjolras is back if you’re so worried about the healthy ones well being. “ After a pause, that madeJoly think Combeferre was asleep and so removed his arm and put him down on the pillow, he finally replied “thank you for all this by the way,” the words were slurred with a tired tongue but Joly still felt flattered with the sentiment that lay beneath. and he almost answered before realising the reply would fall on deaf ears so instead placing a feather light kiss (again when he was glad for vitamin C) on his neck. But Joly wasn’t true to his word and stayed watching the steady rise and fall of his chest even after Enjolras came and went. Thinking of all the ways he could have confessed better and all the ways their date could go (‘The science museum could be nice with a picnic and we could kiss in the more abandoned rooms we know. But what if he’s more traditional and-’ so on). But most of all wishing Combeferre wasn’t sick for much longer.


End file.
